The Good-Morrow

I wonder by my troth, what thou, and I 

Did, till we loved? Were we not weaned till then? 

But sucked on country pleasures, childishly? 

Or snorted we in the seven sleepers’ den? 

’Twas so; but this, all pleasures fancies be. 

If ever any beauty I did see, 

Which I desired, and got, ’twas but a dream of thee. 

And now good-morrow to our waking souls, 

Which watch not one another out of fear; 

For love, all love of other sights controls, 

And makes one little room, an every where. 

Let sea-discoverers to new worlds have gone, 

Let maps to others, worlds on worlds have shown:

Let us possess one world, each hath one, and is one. 

My face in thine eye, thine in mine appears, 

And true plain hearts do in the faces rest:

Where can we find two better hemispheres 

Without sharp north, without declining west? 

Whatever dies, was not mixed equally; 

If our two loves be one, or, thou and I 

Love so alike that none do slacken, none can die.

John Donne